Terror at The Mall
by BohemianFling
Summary: Doesn’t “Terror at The Mall” say enough?


Time Frame: August, 1990. The stupid secret marriage is still a secret. I know, I know, but it works.

Disclaimer: Warner Bros. and Shoot the Moon still own the characters, no matter how much I wish they were mine. The story is all ours—when we fell like admitting it.

Author's Notes: This story was written by shellysmk and me and was originally posted on 08/14/2002. It's based on actual events that occurred during SMucK-a-Palooza 2002. If you don't believe us, ask some other people who were there. :-) It's the only time I've co-written, and it was a blast. Lack of sleep and general silliness, plus a really long car ride, made for a very fun experience writing with Shelly.

Thanks: To strange meals and late nights . . . or is that early mornings? Also to dotty, who was kind enough to beta this oddity. Also, Dix inadvertently gave us a wonderful idea for the first section, so we're sending a nod in her direction for that. :-)

Type: A/U. Really A/U. Very A/U. We're not kidding about this. Did I mention that it's A/U?

Apologies: To anyone whose quotes we have completely mangled for the sake of humor. Remember, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Dedication: This is for all the fans who made August 9 – 11, 2002 a lot of fun, and for Shelly's helpful husband, who has no idea how inspiring his idea was.

**Terror at The Mall**

"Are you sure you're ready?"

With a sigh, I nodded. "Lee, it's a simple meet. I've done hundreds of them, and you're gonna be close by the whole time. What could go wrong?"

"Amanda, never say that," you said, resting your elbows on your knees and pressing your fingers to your temples, the innumerable things that **could** go wrong probably running through your head. "This informant has been known to be a little quirky, and you . . . Well, never mind. Let's just go over this one more time."

"All right. When we get to the Smithsonian station, we go up the escalator and find the man eating the red Popsicle who'll be standing somewhere before the turnstiles. I say—" The screech of brakes and lurch of the train threw me against you, and I clutched your arm to keep from tumbling onto the floor. "Oh my gosh! What's happening? Why are we stopping?"

In answer to my question, the disembodied voice of the conductor crackled over the speakers. "The train . . . has stopped . . . due to debris . . . on the track. There will be . . . a . . . thirty minute . . . delay."

With an exasperated look, you grabbed my hand and pulled me to the front of the train. Slapping your badge against the conductor's window, you pounded on the Plexiglas. "Hey, you!"

The pot-bellied, uniformed man swiveled in his chair and asked, "What . . . do you . . . want?"

Glancing sideways at me, you quipped, "Who does this guy think he is, Captain Kirk?"

I pointed at the conductor's nametag and observed, "Actually, yes."

You tilted your head toward the badge and rolled your eyes. "Tell me, Kirk, what's goin' on here?"

"Up ahead . . . the tunnel . . . has . . . collapsed near the . . . Capitol South . . . station. They've stopped . . . all . . . the trains . . . until . . . the path . . . is clear."

"We have to be at the Smithsonian station in under ten minutes. It's a matter of national security."

"But the path . . . might not be . . . clear. How . . . will . . . I . . . get through?"

"Dammit, Kirk, I'm a federal agent, not an engineer!" Subtly moving your coat aside to display the butt of your pistol, you shouted, "Just get this train moving!"

With a fearful nod, Kirk returned to the controls and answered, "Yes, sir!"

Within minutes, we arrived at the station, disembarked, and were on our way to the turnstiles.

You stopped and turned to me, gesturing toward an ill-kempt man leaning against the farecard machine who was clearly enjoying his double-stick cherry Popsicle. "There he is. You remember the recognition phrase?"

"For the thousandth time, Lee, yes, I remember."

"Okay, okay. Just be careful."

I nodded, and we parted, you heading to the opposite side of the dispensing machine to keep an eye on the transaction.

Taking a deep breath, I approached the red-lipped man and smiled. "Two colors of limestone, my . . . " The rest of the recognition phrase was drowned out by a loud thumping noise from above. The man handed me a glass eye, and I stared at it in confusion. "What's this?"

"Your contact. It's attached to the eye to keep you from losing it. We heard you have a bad habit of misplacing small objects."

Suddenly, a crowd of people surged around the corner and through the turnstiles, jostling my elbow, sending the glass eye bouncing down the escalator to the platform below. As I dashed down the steps to retrieve it, I heard him call, "See what I mean!" after me.

Scooping up the orb, I quickly ascended the up escalator and located you in the crowd. Before my eyes, the informant was swallowed by the horde, and the Popsicle sticks he had been holding enlarged until they could be seen above the heads of the now frantic mass of people. As the sticks menacingly scissor-stepped toward me, I shouted, "Lee!" hoping to be heard above the screams of the throng.

You looked over your shoulder at the wooden terror that was quickly descending upon me then pointed down the tunnel to your left at the exit. "Meet you outside!" you called as you positioned yourself between me and the threatening giant Popsicle sticks.

I shoved my way through the crowd like a salmon swimming upstream to spawn, gasping for breath as I emerged into the open air. At the top of the escalator, I paced anxiously, waiting for you to appear. After you leaped off the moving steps, I rushed forward and threw my arms around you. "Thank goodness you're all right. What **was** that thing?"

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Lee shook his finger at his wife. "Amanda, there's a reason people shouldn't eat what you ate so close to going to bed."

"But, Lee, we had all those leftovers, and Jamie wanted cold pizza, Phillip wanted burritos, and you and I wanted the sesame chicken, and you ate most of the chicken before I could get more than two bites, so I **had** to eat part of the boys' dinners or I would have gone hungry." She stopped to take a breath. "Besides, it was a quick way to clean out your fridge before everything grew hair."

He glared at her. "I haven't grown penicillin in my fridge in at least five years, and you know it. So, we've met Captain Kirk on the Metro 'Enterprise,' you've chased a glass eye down an escalator, and we've been accosted by giant Popsicle sticks. Just a normal day at the office, huh?"

"You haven't heard the best part, yet."

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I drew back and nearly lost my balance when the ground trembled beneath my feet. "Why is the ground shaking? Is it an earthquake?"

"In D.C.? I don't think so." Looking around at the panicked people swarming down into the Metro, you commented, "People are sure scared." You caught the arm of a passing tourist and asked, "What's going on?"

The wild-eyed woman frantically pointed at the Capitol building. "A giant panda just ate half of Congress, and it's headed this way! Everyone's running here 'cause it's wrecked I-395 and I-495, and traffic is backed up for miles. The Metro is the only way out of town." She wrenched her arm from your grasp and joined the crowd heading underground.

"Well, I've heard of taking a bite out of crime, but isn't that taking it a bit too far?" I questioned.

"I'm more concerned about the giant panda, Amanda." You grabbed me by the shoulders to turn me around. "Look!"

An enormous black and white bear was lumbering down The Mall, the ground tremors becoming more violent with each approaching step.

You shook your head in disbelief. "I gotta say, this was **not** on my list of things that could go wrong."

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"Remind me to never let you watch 'Ghostbusters' again. A giant panda? What were you thinking?"

"I tried to think of the most harmless thing. Something I loved. Something that could never, ever possibly destroy us. Amanda Panda."

"Amanda Panda?"

"Yeah, the panda you gave me when Alexi told you he was too old for stuffed animals."

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"Why do things always happen on the hottest day of the year?" you questioned as we broke into a run, chasing the panda, which seemed to be on a collision course with the Washington Monument.

Panting to keep up with you, I gasped, "This would have to happen at the only mall in D.C. that's **not** air conditioned." As we drew closer to the bear, I asked, "What exactly are we going to do if we catch it?"

You stopped and doubled over, flattening your palms against your thighs as you tried to catch your breath. "I hadn't gotten that far, yet."

Breathing heavily, I scanned the area for ideas. "I've got it!" I said, snapping my fingers.

I heard you ask yourself, "What in the world is she doing?" as I began a mad dash toward the nearest CVS Pharmacy.

Out of the corner of my eye, as I paid for my purchase, I saw that you had noticed something that must have pushed thoughts of my impromptu shopping trip from your mind. The herbivore turned carnivore was attempting to climb the Washington Monument. Without waiting for my change, I hurriedly left the store to join you at the base of the monolith.

Clearly unable to comprehend the lunacy of the situation, you stood in awe as it attempted to gain purchase on the slippery limestone. "This kind of thing never happened when there was a Democrat in the White House," you muttered, not noticing that I had reappeared at your side.

"Let's not bring politics into this," I suggested. "We have bigger things to worry about right now." Shaking an open box of Cheese Nips in the air above my head, I said, "I think this will work."

"Amanda, she just ate something that's probably disagreeing with her, so why would she want a snack?"

"What makes you think it's a her?"

You glanced suggestively at the sight before them and waggled your eyebrows. "You're the one who's always telling me about Freud. What do you think about that?"

I whacked you lightly on the shoulder and gave you a dirty look. "That's not funny." Vigorously shaking the box of snack food, I said, "This will work. Trust me. I'm a mother. I know these things."

The roar of jet engines drew our attention skyward. "It looks like the cavalry has arrived," you noted, pointing at the fighters that were fast approaching.

The panda, which had managed to work its way to the top of the monument, reached out one giant paw to ineffectually swat at the circling planes.

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"How'd we get from 'Ghostbusters' to 'King Kong'?"

"I stayed up to watch it on the late show after we got home last night."

"Oh," Lee nodded. "Heartburn, eh?"

"Yeah. After what I ate, I should have expected it," Amanda commented, grimacing as she rubbed her chest in memory of the previous night's suffering. "Anyway, I fell asleep on the couch before it ended."

"So, is that the end of the dream?"

"No, there's one more thing."

"What's that?"

"And then she died."

**THE END**


End file.
